


Toy Soldier

by professor



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Christmas Miracle, Enthusiastic Consent, Excessive amounts of fluff, First Time, Fluff, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Robot Feels, Robot Sex, Steampunk, True Love, Will Give You Cavities
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-04
Updated: 2012-12-04
Packaged: 2017-11-20 07:33:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/582878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/professor/pseuds/professor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles is a toy maker who collects broken, unloved toys in order to repair them and find them loving homes.  One winter's evening, he returns to his workshop to find a badly damaged metal man named Erik. </p>
<p>Written for a prompt on the kinkmeme.</p>
<p>(Alternate titles for this fic include: Gay Steampunk Christmas Miracle Robot Porn</p>
<p>The Robot!Erik Story I Wrote Before Robot!Erik Was Cool.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Toy Soldier

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt on the kinkmeme: http://xmen-firstkink.livejournal.com/6192.html?thread=8911664#t8911664
> 
>  
> 
> _Charles is a toy maker who collects broken, unloved toys in order to repair them and find them loving homes. One day, he comes across a severely damaged toy soldier/android named Erik who is in need of some TLC. Charles painstakingly restores the toy soldier with the intention of selling him to a wealthy, though somewhat dubious, collector (*cough*it’sshaw*cough*). Charles just can’t give Erik up because of true love!!_
> 
>  
> 
> Also, Psychometry is the ability to read impressions off of an object through touch. That's the ability Charles has in this story, instead of telepathy.

Charles is trudging home to his workshop in the winter twilight after a long day of making deliveries, the first snowfall of the season dusting on his hair, his eyelashes. 

He sees the warm, welcoming window of his back door and speeds up, eager to sit by the fire and drink a nice hot cup of tea.

A low moan comes from the shadows by the door. 

Charles freezes, then raises his lantern and sees the flash of light on metal and ---

Oh my word.

"Help me," whispers the broken metal man, as the light fades from his eyes.

*****

Charles, with some difficulty, manages to drag the metal man into his workshop and onto his workbench. He strips off his gloves, and goes to touch the figure.

Charles hesitates. Once he touches the metal man, his psychometry will tell him the man's entire history. But does he want to know? The metal man's broken and mangled body already tells an unpleasant tale.

Charles steels his resolve, and lays a hand upon the fallen warrior.

Images form in his mind.

_Jakob Lehnsherr, one of the greatest toy makers in Europe, possibly in history. He is honored and celebrated for his creations. But he is old, and lonely. His wife dead these many years, and they were never blessed with children._

_Jakob, lonely Jakob, using all of his skill to create a masterpiece, a son. Erik._ Charles sees an image of Erik, newly created, and gasps at such perfection. Charles has only the merest fraction of Jakob's skill.

_Jakob and Erik, father and son. Jakob, no longer lonely in his old age. Years pass, and they are happy ones, full of joy and laughter. Jakob grows even older, and knows he is not long for this world._

_And then, one day their peace is shattered. A wealthy, spoiled, cruel man, has discovered Erik's true nature and tries to buy him from Jakob. Jakob, furious, refuses. An argument, and the stranger, enraged, picks up a large metalworking hammer from Jakob's workbench and hits him with it, cracking his skull and sending him to the floor in a pool of blood. Erik, horrified, trying to help his father, and the stranger, not used being denied his slightest wish, hits Erik with the hammer again, and again, and again, determined that if he cannot possess this marvel, no one can._

_Jakob, in a last act of defiance, seizes an ax and uses it to cut deeply into the stranger's back, then when he has fallen, cuts the man's head off. Then Jakob falls, and does not rise._

_Erik, crawling across the floor to hold his father's hand as his father dies._

Charles is on the verge of tears. The metal man's story is sadder than he had imagined. And there's still more to be told.

_Charles Xavier_ , and this impression is so vivid, it's like Charles can hear the words spoken inside his head. 

_Charles Xavier, I have long heard many good things about you, that you are a kind and generous man, and I suspect you share my own gift, the ability to understand that which broken and discarded. I have sent my son to you, in hopes that you will help him. If you have any compassion in your heart, hear my plea: Help my son find a home where he is loved and cherished for the **person** that he is._

Charles is crying, silent tears streaming down his face, mourning this man he never met, this brave and kind and honorable man whose last act was to protect his son. _Oh Jakob, I will help your son, I promise_.

*****

It's like a fever has possessed Charles. He was always devoted to his work, but now he is obsessed. 

He continues to seek out and fix broken and unloved toys during the day, because he needs the practice. But every night, he stokes the fire high, and slowly, carefully, painstakingly repairs and restores Erik's body.

He pushes himself further, harder, determined that Jakob's masterwork will not be lost and his sacrifice will not be in vain.

He eats and sleeps, but methodically, only to fuel himself, and because making a mistake in his restoration would be a sin against the craft.

And slowly, slowly, his efforts pay off, and Erik's body is coming back together. 

Truth be told though, the physical repairs are not what concerns Charles. He is deeply afraid his meager skill is not enough to bring _Erik_ back to life. Charles has found what appears to be a power source, and has fixed it to the absolute best of his ability. But Erik remains lifeless, his eyes dark.

Charles shoves his worries aside and continues his restoration.

*****

Charles huddles by the fire on this, the longest night. No celebratory food or drink for him. The only thing he has done to mark the occasion is to light two candles. One for Jakob, and one for Erik. 

Charles takes a sip of his tea and stares out his window, forlorn. He shouldn't berate himself so, he knows. He has given new life to myriad toys, and brings happiness to children with his skills. And yet why now has his skill failed him, when he needs it the most.

Charles sees a streak a of light across the sky. 

A falling star. 

He makes a wish.

After a while, he goes back to watching the fire and lets the quiet and the warmth lull him to sleep.

*****

Dawn breaks.

As the first light of morning streams into the workshop, a pair of eyes opens.

They glow faintly green in the rapidly diminishing darkness.

*****

Charles stirs in the morning light. He's stiff and achy from sleeping in his chair all night. 

He yawns and stretches, and smacks his lips a few times. He stumbles out of the chair, rubbing his eyes and dragging the blanket behind him.

"Good morning," says a voice.

It takes Charles a few moments to register.

He shoots to full wakefulness in seconds, and snaps his head around. 

There, propped up on his elbows on Charles' workbench, is Erik, eyes open, face animated.

Charles' jaw drops. "You -- you're awake! How wonderful!"

Erik nods. "You helped me."

"I did," Charles responds, and then peers at Erik's body. "Oh, but I haven't finished the repairs to your body yet! You probably can't even move off that workbench," he fusses, and then grabs his tools. 

Erik's brow furrows (Charles marvels at how responsive his face is, such craftsmanship). "It's morning. You should eat something first."

Charles waves him off. "Nonsense, it can wait."

Erik studies him. "I only saw you briefly before I -- _before_ , but you look thinner. And there are dark circles under your eyes. It's winter and you could get sick if you get overtired and don't eat well. My-- my father," and here Erik's voice breaks, "used to get sick in winter. Please eat something."

It's said with such quiet earnestness that Charles can't help but go get something to eat.

*****

Repairs are going much faster, now that Erik is awake and can advise Charles. He really knows an astonishing amount about his own construction.

"Is it so strange?" answers Erik when Charles asks him about it. "Don't you know your own body? Can't you feel your own heartbeat, feel the air in your lungs?" 

Charles concedes the point. 

On the other hand, repairs are not going as fast as they could because Erik has developed the bothersome habit of insisting Charles take rest breaks and buy proper food from the market and going to sleep well before midnight. And when Charles objects, Erik just gives him this soulful look, eyes wide like a baby deer.

*****

And then finally repairs are done.

Erik walks slowly around the room, testing out his newly repaired limbs, while Charles watches, enthralled.

Even when Erik had been broken and immobile, Charles could see what a work of art he was. But it was _nothing_ compared to seeing Erik moving, lithe and graceful, an utter masterpiece.

Charles sobers as he realizes that now he needs to start work on the promise he'd made to the memory of Jakob Lehnsherr -- to find Erik a loving home.

Charles has always let his instincts guide him when it comes to finding new homes for the toys he repairs, and so he keeps his eyes and ears open as he makes deliveries. Weeks pass, though, and nothing turns up.

*****

Charles comes home to see Erik bent over a metal nutcracker that needs a particularly tricky repair, his eyes narrowed in concentration (and once again Charles marvels at the sheer detail Jakob included). 

Charles is about to say something when Erik gestures and the metal _flows_ and the nutcracker is whole again, as if it had never been broken.

Charles drops the firewood he was carrying in his astonishment, and Erik whirls around, eyes wide.

"Erik," Charles breathes. "That's _amazing_. How did you do it?"

Erik tilts his head. "I -- I've always been able to do it. I used to help Father," and his eyes are sad "fix toys with it."

Charles flushes with shame, and realizes he may have been remiss. "Erik, I didn't want to impose upon you, since you are a guest here. But if you would like a task to help occupy your time, I could certainly use your help."

Erik smiles.

*****

Charles continues to be amazed by Erik, and Jakob's ingenuity. 

But this is -- beyond anything he could imagine.

Erik is cursing and rubbing his hand, that Charles accidentally spilled hot tea on. 

"I'm so sorry," says Charles, staring in astonishment. "Forgive me, but, did you _feel_ that?"

Erik freezes, and seems to shrink into himself. "I -- yes."

Charles is confused by Erik's reaction. "But that's wonderful! I mean, not the pain, but that you have a sense of touch, how amazing!"

Erik's face is shadowed. "The collector thought so, too."

Charles is hit with a jolt of anger -- how _dare_ that man taint this wonderful gift with his hateful memory. 

Erik continues. "I -- liked it when Father hugged me. But the pain -- it was so shocking when the collector hit me, and I couldn't think, and maybe if I couldn't _feel_ I'd have been able to _act_ \--"

Charles does the only thing he can think of -- he walks over and gives Erik a hug. 

Erik freezes for a moment, and then wraps his arms around Charles and hugs him back.

*****

Erik is reluctant to leave the house, and Charles understands why. It takes quite a bit of coaxing for Charles to convince Erik to come along on one particular delivery.

"Here you are, Scott," says Charles as he hands the boy back his metal nutcracker toy. Scott exclaims with joy, his eyes wide behind his spectacles. Alex smiles to see his brother so happy.

"Scott, Alex, this is Erik," says Charles, gently tugging Erik forward by the arm from where Erik has been hovering by the door. "He's been helping me in my workshop, and he's the one who fixed your toy, Scott."

Scott thanks Erik solemnly, and Alex shakes his hand. Erik bit by bit seems to relax as he sees they are good people, nothing like the collector who shattered his world. 

Suddenly the door opens and closes behind them, and Erik tenses again. Charles lays a hand on his arm to calm him.

"Charles!" says Armando jovially. "I didn't know you were coming by today." He gives Charles a brief hug -- and strangely, Charles feels Erik's arm grow even more tense at that -- and then Armando slides past to Alex, who he embraces and gives a gentle but thorough kiss on the lips.

"Who is your friend?" Armando asks with a welcoming smile, arm in arm with Alex.

Charles makes introductions around, and they chat for a bit, while Scott runs around the room, playing with his repaired toy. 

But Charles knows not to push Erik too hard, and so he makes their excuses soon enough. Alex and Armando only let them leave after they've extracted a promise of sharing a meal soon.

*****

Erik is silent and thoughtful the whole way home.

They get back to the workshop, stoke the fire. Charles starts preparing dinner. 

Charles expects Erik to have questions, but when Erik finally speaks Charles is rather surprised by the topic.

"Armando," says Erik, "he kissed Alex. The way a man would kiss his wife." Erik's brow furrows. "But they're both men."

Charles ponders how much to explain to Erik, and decides to keep to the basics. "Alex and Armando live together as spouses, because they love each other. They raise Alex's brother Scott, since Alex and Scott's parents died. They've been friends of mine for a very long time."

Erik nods thoughtfully. "It's good to have friends. Father didn't have very many, but he had a few, and he was always happier after he'd seen them. Alex and Armando seem very nice. I like them."

*****

Charles should feel happy that Erik gets on with Alex and Armando, but instead he feels something cold and heavy settle in his belly. 

Because it's been wonderful, having Erik here, to share the toy repairs with and to scold him into eating and sleeping and to talk with and to just have someone else in the house. But Charles has never forgotten the promise he made to Jakob Lehnsherr's memory.

Charles can't think of a better place for Erik than Alex and Armando's home. They're good men, and Scott is a wonderful child who will certainly adore Erik.

He resolves to talk to them as soon as possible.

Except he keeps dragging his heels. One week becomes two becomes three.

He knows he shouldn't. Especially now. Erik's started to come out of his shell more, he's even leaving the house on his own, mostly to go to the bookshop a few doors down to borrow books he won't let Charles see ( _it's a surprise_ ), but it's progress, and Charles should be helping Erik find a home, not holding Erik back because of Charles' own selfishness.

*****

So finally, one night when Alex and Armando have had him over for dinner, he broaches the subject with them. He has known them for years, as he's told Erik, and knows them to be utter trustworthy, so he swears them to secrecy and tells them the whole story, and finishes up with his request.

Alex and Armando don't say anything for a while, just share a significant look between them.

"Charles, of course Erik would be welcome here," says Armando. "But doesn't Erik already _have_ a loving home?"

"No, I told you, Jakob was --" Charles starts.

"He means with _you_ , Charles," Alex cuts in. "Every time we've seen you, you and Erik seem very happy together. Why _wouldn't_ you have him stay?" 

Charles blinks, thunderstruck. It literally hadn't occurred to him. His routine for years and years has always been to find the creations that need fixing, repair them, and then find them new homes. He's never kept anything for himself. It never occurred to him that he _could_.

But only if Erik _wants_ to stay. _To be kept_ , his mind whispers, and some hot and shameful pools in his belly, and he ruthlessly shoves away the thoughts before he can examine them too closely (he won't, won't take advantage of a guest, an innocent, someone who needs his help --). 

Charles needs to calm his mind and organize his thoughts. He thanks Alex and Armando for their hospitality, and heads home.

*****

Charles thinks furiously the whole walk home. He flings open the door with perhaps a bit more force than needed, as Erik looks up, startled.

"Apologies," says Charles as he shuts the door. "I was merely thinking hard about something." 

He looks at Erik thoughtfully for a bit. Erik, nonplussed, returns his gaze. 

"Erik," says Charles finally. "What do _you_ want?"

Erik tilts his head quizzically. "What do you mean?"

Charles struggles to articulate himself better. "What do you want out of ... life, I suppose. Your father wanted me to help you find a new home. But fathers don't always know best. What do _you_ want? A place to live? A job? A calling? Wealth? Tell me what you want, and I will help you achieve it."

Erik is still returning his gaze, but it ... changes. It's more intense, more compelling. Charles isn't sure he could look away if he tried. 

"There _is_ one thing I want," says Erik softly. And he's crossing the room and his hands are on Charles' shoulders and he's leaning down and Charles lets out a soft "Oh..." just before Erik is kissing him.

*****

Kissing Erik is a strange, wondrous, heady experience. Kissing Erik is nothing like kissing a human -- there is warm, firm metal instead of soft flesh. Erik is being very gentle, and Charles supposes it's just as well -- he's enjoyed rougher kisses before, but it would probably not be advisable, here.

So, different. Yet not unpleasant. Quite pleasant indeed, once he's used to the sensations, and Charles is intrigued to discover first hand that Erik's tongue is quite flexible. And his taste -- Erik tastes clean and sharp with a metallic tang, and a hint of spice, and Charles decides he likes it very much indeed.

And being in constant contact with Erik like this, Charles is catching flashes of _affectiontrustwant_ , and the knowledge warms him inside.

Everything is so lovely, being wrapped physically in Erik's arms and mentally in his emotions, Charles is content to simply trade soft kisses with him for a time.

Charles strokes his fingers along Erik's cheek as Erik nuzzles softly along Charles' jawline.

"Charles," Erik murmurs in his ear. "Would you lie with me? I would like to, very much," Erik slowly drags his tongue along the shell of Charles' ear.

Several concerns go through Charles' head at that point, all revolving around the central theme of _how would that even work?_ but Charles almost immediately dismisses them. Erik wouldn't ask for this if he didn't think something was possible. It would undoubtedly be _different_ than with another human, but different didn't mean worse, or better. Just different. 

And Charles finds he wants to lie with Erik, very much. Erik has a sense of touch -- Charles can explore with Erik to figure out what feels pleasureable for him. They'll find a way to make it work.

So then -- "Yes," responds Charles, and Erik's answering smile is brighter than the sun.

*****

Despite Charles' best intentions of wanting to focus on Erik, and figuring out what Erik found pleasurable, Erik only seemed to want to focus on Charles. 

"Shhh," says Erik, placing a finger before Charles' lips to silence his protests. "Let me take care of you."

And he does, slowly removing Charles' garments one article at a time, tracing soft, slow caresses along each new inch of revealed skin. 

Charles should be cold, as it is the depth of winter, snow falling outside this night, but Erik has stoked the fire high, and arranged pillows and furs and blankets on the bed to form sort of a nest that he tucks Charles into. Charles feels a bit silly, but mostly he feels too warm and drowsy and content to protest. 

He murmurs contentedly at Erik, gazing at him from under half-lidded eyes, and Erik smiles as he continues to caress Charles' now completely naked body. 

"You spend so much of your time taking care of others, Charles," he says. "You deserve to be taken care of in turn."

"Mmmmmm," sighs Charles, beckoning Erik closer. "Kiss me." 

And Erik does, long, slow, drugging kisses that go on and on and on.

Until Erik pulls back, and Charles makes a whimper of protest, reaching his arms out toward Erik.

"All in good time, Charles," says Erik as he pulls out a small bottle from the local apothecary. Charles recognizes it, it's a type of oil Armando had mentioned -- _oh my_.

Sure enough, Erik pours a generous amount of oil into his hand, slicks it up. He holds his hand just above Charles half-hard (and rapidly hardening) cock.

"May I?" Erik asks, and Charles nods his assent. 

Erik carefully wraps his hand around Charles' cock and starts stroking. Charles makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat.

"Am I gripping you too hard," asks Erik, as he continues stroking up and down, up and down.

"No, actually, you could grip a bit harder," Charles says, writhing.

"Oh, like --" and Erik adjusts his grip. 

"No, now that's a bit too --" Charles grunts.

"Oh, then how about --" and Erik decreases the pressure slightly until --

"YES! There, like that, and you can go a bit faster too -- oh, oh, OH, yes, keep doing _that_ \--" Charles babbles, and it's fantastic, not just the physical actions, but watching Erik as he does it, brow furrowed in concentration, all innocent enthusiasm and enjoyment, it's a ridiculously attractive look on him.

Charles is panting and moaning and writhing and basically coming apart under Erik's hand, it's so good, Charles feels like he's suspended in a single moment of white-hot pleasure that goes on and on and on, until finally there's a sharp spike of glorious sensation and Charles peaks, spilling his seed all over his naked belly and Erik's hand.

*****

Charles is boneless, wrecked, curled up in his nest of pillows and blankets and furs waiting for his heart to stop pounding, his breathing to slow down. Erik is watching him as though he is a precious, golden treasure. 

"Did you like it?" asks Erik.

Charles nods, drowsily. "Oh yes, very much so."

"Good. I was worried since I didn't do it exactly the way the book said --"

Charles' eyes fly open. "Book?"

Erik nods. "Yes, from the bookshop. I bought several, for research."

Charles' face turns to flame. He will never be able to look bookseller Henry in the eye again.

*****

"Give me your hand," says Charles, and Erik obliges him. 

Charles starts rubbing slow circles across the back of Erik's hand with his thumb. "How does this feel?"

"It's nice ... " says Erik hesitantly, as if he's not sure what answer to give.

Charles flips Erik's hand over, starts rubbing circles in the palm of his hand. "And how about that?"

"Oh, that's nice too ... I can feel it ... more? better?" Erik shakes his head. "I'm not sure I have the right words."

"Do not worry yourself," says Charles. "We'll just try a lot of different things, and see which things you like, does that sound acceptable?"

Erik nods his acquiesence.

*****

Charles mentally catalogues all the places on Erik's body that seem to garner an especially strong response -- the bottoms of his feet, the backs of his knees, the palms of his hands, the join where his neck meets his shoulders, the slight curve where his waist slides into his hips, a spot on his belly about two inches below his navel. 

Plenty of material to work with already, thinks Charles, especially as he hasn't yet touched certain areas.

Charles' fine motor control is excellent -- all those years doing delicate repairs on toys. He lets his fingertips trail lightly over Erik's nipples, and Erik lets out a soft gasp, and shivers. 

"Would you like me to keep touching you like this?" murmurs Charles.

"Oh yes, please," says Erik eagerly.

Charles traces light circles around Erik's nipples and starts swirling his tongue where Erik's neck meets his shoulder. 

He slides one hand down to Erik's belly and starts rubbing circles there as well, in the opposite direction to the circles he's already tracing.

Charles is doing this for a few minutes when he notices that Erik has frozen up. He immediately stops what he's doing, concerned. 

Erik is staring into space, and has stopped breathing (not that he needs to breathe, but he maintains a semblance). 

"Erik?" asks Charles, trying to get a response. "Erik? Are you well? Did I do something you do not care for?"

Still no response, and now Charles is growing greatly alarmed. He withdraws from the bed, stripping off the covers so nothing is binding Erik. 

He's considering touching or possibly shaking Erik to see if stronger stimuli garners a response, but he's afraid it might harm Erik. 

After a few moments, Erik goes completely limp, then opens his eyes.

Charles nearly falls over with relief.

Erik blinks in surprise. "Charles, why are you over there? Why aren't you here with me?" he asks, beckoning.

"Erik, are you all right? What happened? Did I hurt you?" asks Charles, wringing his hands.

"I don't know what happened, but it didn't hurt, it was nice," says Erik. "Everything kept building and building, and then it all converged, and I was floating and everything was warm and wonderful, and then I floated back down and opened my eyes and you were over there instead of over here with me." he finishes, the faintest trace of accusation in his voice.

Charles slides back into bed with Erik, and Erik makes a contented noise. "And you're sure I didn't do anything to hurt you, or that you did not like?" asks Charles one more time, just to be sure.

"I am sure," says Erik. His brow furrows just then. "Charles did I, did I do it wrong? I --"

Charles is quick to soothe him. "No, no, you were lovely," he says, rubbing Erik's back. "I was just surprised and worried about you, because it was different. But different isn't bad or wrong, it's just different. As long as you enjoy it, that's what matters."

Erik looks unconvinced. "But the books --"

Charles shakes his head. "Books are a good place to get ideas, but that's all they are, ideas. They aren't ironclad rules, but really more like guidelines. Try things, see if you like them. And if you do, wonderful. And if you don't, try something else."

Erik nods. "Actually, there is something I'd like to try, right now."

"Of course," says Charles. "What would you like?"

"May I suck your cock?" asks Erik, and Charles goes cross-eyed with lust.

*****

Charles needn't have worried about corrupting Erik's innocent nature with their coupling -- Erik remained just as open and earnest as he always had, throwing himself into their lovemaking with enthusiasm.

No, the problem lay in the opposite direction.

Charles did so hate disappointing him, but -- "Erik, my darling, I'm afraid I need to rest. For a bit." Probably much longer than a bit. Every muscle in Charles' body _aches_ , certain ... parts are so oversensitive they can barely stand to be covered, and he doesn't think he'll be able to move from the bed for the next day or so. 

And, oh, Erik is making that sad, disappointed face again, the one that convinced Charles that he had the stamina of a much younger man, or should at least try to pretend that it is so. If it were anyone but Erik, Charles would suspect manipulation, but Erik simply feels things and shows them naturally, without restraint. It's mostly endearing, but sometimes ... troublesome.

Charles is still contemplating how to approach this quandary when he drifts off.

*****

Charles wakes, tries to move, and immediately winces. 

Mistake. He's sore _everywhere_.

Unfortunately, certain needs are making themselves felt. Charles untangles himself from the covers and stumbles on rubbery legs to the watercloset.

After his ablutions, Charles stumbles back to the bed and falls facefirst onto it.

He'll move in a few minutes. 

Well, perhaps just a few more.

It's an hour later when Erik comes in, bringing a tray with tea and hot breakfast. Charles would offer him sexual favors in gratitude if the mere thought of ... performing didn't leave him whimpering at the moment.

*****

Eventually he and Erik find a pace that suits both of them, at least, regarding stamina.

But Erik is so _shameless_ , and Charles means that truly in the best sense of the word, _without shame_ , that he is constantly making requests that cause Charles to blush. 

But they were so delightful.

Charles buries his face in the pillow and whimpers as Erik's tongue -- glorious, amazing appendage that it is -- makes slow, methodical licks at his hole.

*****

Afterwards, they snuggle together in the bed, under the pile of blankets and furs Erik insisted Charles needs to keep warm. Charles drowses, content. 

He felt he could stay here all day, warm and safe in the arms of the man he lo--

Oh.

_Oh._ When did that happen?

Charles props himself up on one elbow and looks down at Erik, smiling.

Erik smiles at him in return.

"I love you, you know," says Charles.

Erik's face falls, and Charles grows alarmed.

"Charles, I'm sorry, but I, I don't know if I _can_ love," confesses Erik, and Charles kisses him and laughs softly.

"Erik, you scold me into eating and listen to me ramble about toymaking and bring me breakfast in bed and make sure my bed is always warm and purchase books from the bookshop just because you think I might like them and do a million other little, thoughful things for me. If that's not love, I don't know what is," says Charles.

Erik lights up and kisses him and Charles knows that this is where he belongs, in the arms of his love, his lover.

His miracle.

 

_~ fin_

**Author's Note:**

> (So unfortunately the tone of the story is all wrong for it, but I was _severely_ tempted to have Charles quote Zapp Brannigan from Futurama: "I need rest. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is spongy, and bruised.")


End file.
